Wouldn't it be Good?
by Third Time Charm
Summary: It is only when faced with insurmountable loss that one can overcome the obstacles to embrace the truth as it is, not as others wish to percieve it. It is only in this moment that a love denied, can finally become reality.


**Wouldn't it be good?**

"To love is to risk not being loved in return. To hope is to risk pain. To try is to risk failure, but risk must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing."

-Unknown

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. I do not make money of off the song.

* * *

"_Sakura."_

There…! There it was. The rope was thrown.

An anchor to cease the drifting of a boat, the tree that solidly grounded the leaves that otherwise would have flittered away at the first light breeze, the voice was impossible to deny. A rasping baritone met an enunciated tenor for a timbre that not even the mountains themselves would try to deny.

Except, of course, there were some things that even the mightiest ninja could not prevent. Though they tried, even they could not keep their cherished contemporaries safe.

It was a poignant reminder.

With blood letting to dampen and darken the parched earth, Sakura Haruno did not seem to be in good shape. It could not even be said that it had been her fault (though later, the girl would hastily take the blame for it. "I should have been faster!") for if even the esteemed Anbu Captain Uchiha Itachi had missed the trap so painstakingly laid out for them, then it was preposterous to think a mere Jonin medic ought to have seen it.

Of course, such things were small consolation.

It had been the wire, Itachi realized in an instant, that had nearly killed her. Garrotes were not traditional Shinobi tools-and yet, the pink haired medic that had been added to his team on a last minute thought would attest to the fact that they could be found.

Sakura Haruno would not even need to _speak_ for such a point to get across-should she remain unable to heal herself, there was no other medic of a caliber that could heal the dangerous laceration about her throat without a scar within range.

"_Sakura."_

Insistent. Demanding.

It was the Uchiha prerogative, Sakura hazily concluded. Not even the Hyuuga could hope to compete.

And yet, his voice took it all away. The pain that lanced her entire body was forcibly removed as warm hands bracketed her temples, the touch soothingly familiar.

.

Uchiha Itachi was, without a doubt, the most eligible bachelor that Konoha had seen in generations. Certainly Hyuuga Neji had _prestige_, (and admittedly, if one was a man looking to marry his cousin Hinata could not be competed with, but for the matter of protective relations) and Uzamaki Naruto had _status, _but they were not the best. Uchiha Sasuke was an exemplary young man swiftly ascending through the ranks of the Konoha Shinobi. Nara Shikamaru was a strategist like none other, and was no doubt, quite the match.

Anything they did, though, Itachi could have done better. The Hyuuga could not quite compete with the renown of the Uchiha clan. The Uzamaki boy certainly seemed on his way to becoming Hokage, but really-who wanted to marry the future _Hokage?_ Any woman could have told their daughters, it never ended well.

As swiftly as Sasuke rose through the Shinobi hierarchy, his elder brother had done so more swiftly-and while they were both Anbu Captains, it was impossible to deny that Itachi held seniority, both for achieving the rank earlier and for..well, being _better. _

For how brilliant as the Nara minds were, even they could not compete with the Uchiha protégé.

Frankly, it went without saying that every woman in the village, ninja or otherwise, swooned in his wake.

Yet, for all the choice he could have had, Uchiha Itachi never seemed to be interested. It was a tragedy, all agreed-from the Clan Head, Uchiha Fugaku, and his advisors to the Elders that advised the Hokage.

Never you mind all the women who prayed for even a momentary glance.

It began then, two years before the fateful mission that ended in a failure, the Hokage's apprentice-and near daughter-garroted and bleeding out onto the parched, dry earth.

Leaning lazily against a post-one of many that held the railing several feet above the waterline-Sakura regarded the river in moderate peace. The concrete walkway was nearly empty at this time of day.

Really, it was an unremarkable scene. The weather was seasonably warm, mild enough for shorts and t-shirts among the civilians and for the female ninja to go about clad in their typical state of undress. However, the day _itself_ was far from common.

It wasn't every day that a girl turned twenty, you know.

Or at least, Sakura hoped not. She wasn't quite certain she would be able to handle such a birthday ever again. The older she got, the more such birthdays only brought to mind memories that were best left in a coffin several years entombed. What horrible thing had she done in a life to deserve her parents death on her own _birthday?_

Now, instead of a day commemorating years on earth, it became a memorial-marking how many years it had been since the fire jutsu gone awry had killed both of her civilian-born parents. Today made it four.

It was easier to remember in the twilight of dawn, Sakura realized. The voices had long since left her memory-and even the once clear lines of their faces were beginning to blur around the edges. However, looking down into the water, the ripples on the surface made it easier to forgive her lapse in memory. She could tell herself that it was a result of the disturbance on the water, not her own failing memory.

If only she could wish herself away from this place, those memories.

"_-and while he does not lament missing the festivities, I was pressed to express his regrets that he would be unable to see you."_

-what? No such memory, that voice. Those tones had no place in memory. Rather, they were the stuff of daydreams and fantasy. Looking over her shoulder (some ninja she had turned out to be, Sakura thought, abashed. She had not realized she was being approached, and even spoken to! It was only slight consolation that it had been Uchiha Itachi to approach and only some sort of deity would hear his footfalls.) the pink haired woman started.

"_My mother and brother both would extend an invitation for you to dine with us at the household later in the week for our own celebration."_

And..well, that was the beginning of it.

Only later would Sakura learn of the fact that it had been Itachi himself who had expressed the firm belief that they should _not_ celebrate her birthday on the exact date. Only he, of all of her contemporaries and friends who had known her for years, could realize that instead of festivities, she would be mourning the family that would never be, again.

.

"_Happy Birthday, Sakura."_

Twenty one seemed absurd. Frankly, it was even more preposterous a thing than twenty. Celebrating her age more and more, seemed to be celebrating the fact that she had simply _survived_ to see it.

Of course, sitting in the shade of a tree on the cool grass, the grit and grime of the battlefield fell away to serenity. There was safety in the shade, in the green grass by his side. Itachi, lounging casually against the trunk of a tree, had gathered Sakura between his legs and pressed her back to his chest, arms loosely wrapped around her waist.

It was an odd picture they made, his chin resting on her shoulder, lips brushing against her cheek as his low voice carried for her ears alone.

It was _precious._

There were moments that were never meant for the human eye to see, and this was, unquestionably, one of them. It was the cold autumn wind and the blooming sakura blossoms-it was apricity, the warmth of the winter sun. The paradox of the two-a man feared for his ability to kill and a woman revered for her skills at preserving life-was meant for the shadow, never the sun.

Yet, the stolen moments that were all they had were _enough._

Haruno Sakura knew-in her heart, anything he gave would always be enough, if only because it was all she would ever be able to have.

A delicate forefinger traced the sinuous lines of his hands, from his palm up the wrist, to the forearm's delicate skin. For all of his stoicism, Itachi was hard pressed to keep from shuddering.

There was such unquenchable _innocence_ in her hands as she molded the lines that were built to kill-and for her and her alone, were life.

The life they lead was not ideal-far from it. The Anbu Captain spent more of his time behind a mask doused in blood of the men whose lives he had taken whereas the Hospital's Co-director was painted in blood of a different color, trying to stymie the ebb and flow to save the lives of her countrymen.

Stolen moments between the two were precious.

Haruno Sakura was an exemplary Shinobi, no one could deny it. The Hokage's former apprentice and life-long student was not a woman to take lightly. She could destroy life just as easily as she gave it. The girl was part of one of the few teams that had survived intact from their genin days (the other two notable exceptions being both generations of the Ino-Shika-Chou trifecta) and held in high esteem by everyone who interacted with her.

To know Sakura was to love her.

Frankly, it was as simple as that.

However, as easy as it might have been to _love_, life had to be endlessly more complicated than that.

Haruno Sakura-esteemed Medical Director, medic nin of great renown, correspondent of the Daimyo of Fire and associate of three others, having treated them in the past-was still just a Civilian born.

The Hyuuga clan _supposed_ they might let the Clan Head's nephew associate with her-Neji was, after all, just a branch family member and it was a worthy alliance. Even the Uchiha would consider her, for the man known as Shisui, or _perhaps_ even for the younger child of their Head, Sasuke.

After all, the elders concluded smugly, Sasuke _did_ have a former association with her and it wouldn't do to allow the Hyuuga to get their hands on such an asset.

However, to the eyes of such esteemed clans, it all came down to the blood. Even if blood was a tool of her trade, Sakura knew.

She knew that she would never have the prestige of her mentor, the Lady Tsunade. Really, how could she? For all of Tsunade's eccentricities, she was still a granddaughter of the first Hokage, taught by the third.

The best Sakura could offer was that her genin Sensei had nearly made it to Hokage, her teammate certainly would and that her mentor _was._

There was nothing she could do about the matter of blood.

And so, the stolen moments in the dappled sunlight, fingers lazily tracing the muscles in Itachi's arms, would have to be enough.

They were all she had.

.

It was an annoying trick, Sakura later came to conclude. The fact that the Uchiha could see any jutsu and replicate it flawlessly…well, frankly, it struck of _cheating._ Of course, there were some things that even the Sharingan could not replicate.

The chakra control required for medical ninjutsu was one of them. Either a ninja had the capacity for it, or they didn't. Of her teammates, it had only ever been Kakashi that possessed the slightest capability. Naruto was too hasty and Sasuke, too _turbulent._

There was nothing in them that was ever completely still, calm.

So used to being the only medic, the only one who could possibly heal anything of consequence, Haruno Sakura knew the routine. The medic stayed back, the medic stayed out of _trouble,_ the medic stayed out of the fight, the medic was supposed to be in a defensive position _only._

None of these rules or "supposed to"s ever covered what to do when the medic was singled out.

Few things ever actually seemed to plan for the eventuality of disaster, actually. It was worth remedying in the future, a hazy Sakura concluded.

The warmth, though. It was inescapable. What freshly cut mint would feel like, should the smell translate to a sensation, was generated along her entire body. It was firstly concentrated around her throat, working down the delicately vulnerable column of her neck in sections.

From there, the light tingling began over her stomach.

And then, it all came away.

The air, heavy with condensation, was difficult to breathe-or was that simply lingering soreness?

"_When we return the Hokage will complete what I could not,_" the stern voice intoned. Inflexible. Immovable.

Even mountains would bend to his will because should they not move from his course, he would carve through them without a thought.

"_Open your eyes. Sakura."_

And really, how could she not?

Muted green met wheeling red as the girl's eyelashes fluttered in her valiant attempt to look up at the man who had saved her, time and time again.

He had saved her first, that one day nearly two years ago, on her twentieth birthday-when he had given her the consideration of her own feelings. Uchiha Itachi had brought Sakura back from the edge of a precipice that her emotions would have pushed her over in time.

Again, the man had saved her-twenty six to her twenty one, on the day of her twenty first birthday one year later. He had given her the gift of memory, of knowledge. Even if something could not last, did not mean that it was not beautiful-and that was the way to live her life.

Now, though, was the final time.

Sakura realized this-she could not _afford_ to lose any more of herself to him, so darkly dangerous. He was lethal-not to her body, but to her soul. For every memory he imparted was a piece of herself that was forever lost to his hands that she would never be able to reclaim when he left.

She was Haruno Sakura-and that was good enough for the Uchiha Clan heir.

"_Please,"_ the woman rasped out, voice ragged with stress and healing, _"continue without me. I can recover here and return at my own once I have completed the healing. It would not do to have me slow-"_

"_**Enough.**__"_

Wind, as gentle as a breeze stirred by a butterfly's wing and as forceful as the typhoon that raged with the changing seasons, met gravel-boulders shaken loose by the ravages of time, sand gritted down to vastness with the elements and diamonds, hardened beyond measure by pressures untold.

Frankly, Sakura never stood a chance.

"_Enough, Sakura," _he continued more gently. _"I will not leave you. Not here, not there-not back then and not now-and not ever." _

Her hand, pale under the blood and dirt of battle and travel, was lifted and held firmly in one of his. Itachi's other hand quietly reached down around her waist to lift her-gently, ever so gently-against him. In a parody of how they had spent the afternoon hours on her twenty first birthday, the man pressed her back to his chest, holding her tightly.

It was not without effort, though. As unwieldy as a limp body might be, a tense one was equally difficult to manage. Sakura, for her part, seemed to have no interest in aiding the perpetuated closeness between them.

"_Itachi, we can't! What if Shisui comes back? What will he tell your family? He can't keep his mouth shut-"_ and she was silenced, her hand released in favor of his own engloved palm to rest gently along the curve of her jaw.

"_Let him speak. Let them lecture, let the world see. More than anything else in this world, we belong. They will simply have to learn to deal with it."_

And suddenly, she _believed._ That terrible, meddling little bit of hope that sprung to life so quickly in her breast was charmed by his firm conviction-and Sakura could not help but find truth in his words. Opening her mouth to speak, she was once more disturbed by motion.

In an instant, the man had risen to his feet, the medic nin safely ensconced in his arms as he took to the trees, agilely navigating the branches to return them all-Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Shisui, Shiranui Genma and himself-to Konoha.

"_Mine, Sakura. Mine to care for. Mine to have, to hold-mine to protect. No argument." _

And no concession, Itachi thought privately, red eyes enraptured by the delicate woman he held so closely.

"_Sleep. Soon enough, we will speak with your Mentor. She will put to rights that which I could not. No more of hiding what we are. I will not lose another moment with you to the ridiculous strictures of archaic expectations." _

A small, feminine hand reached up to follow the line of his shoulder, opposite the one she was held so tightly against, to reach up the neck along the jaw, to find the corner of his lips. Tracing the firm, stern lines that had set upon his expression-smiling was one of the few arts that Uchiha Itachi _had not_ mastered from a young age-Sakura smiled for both of them.

"_Mine, Itachi. Ours."_

Time, space, feeling-it belonged unequivocally to both. From the day all those months ago that Uchiha Itachi had interrupted her private musings with the voice lingering over her name the same way he did years later, they had been the completed paradox.

And finally, Sakura could remember.

.

"_Sakura. My brother entreated I speak with you. He found himself unfortunately occupied today and while he does not lament missing the festivities, I was pressed to express his regrets that he would be unable to see you."_

It was impossible to gauge intent from the impassive tones of Uchiha Itachi, but in memory, Uchiha Sakura would later say that he had been smiling at her in the only way he could-with his voice.

"_My mother and brother both would extend an invitation for you to dine with us at the household later in the week for our own celebration."_

A hand reached out to brush aside the sweep of bangs that covered one of the enchantingly vivid eyes that were so perplexedly regarding him.

"_I look forward to seeing you there."_

_

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_

ooc; Published 8/7/2010; 3:23 AM.

This story was inspired by the song "Wouldn't it be good?" by Cascada. Lyrics as follows.

_"Remember the day, there was a sign, it was the time to take me away into your arms. I heard your voice, you called my name- a single touch would stop my pain. I feel like you in everything I do. Wouldn't it be good to be in your shoes, even if it was for just one day? Wouldn't it be good if we could wish ourselves away? Wouldn't it be good to be on your side, the grass is always greener over there! Wouldn't it be good if we could live without a_ _care. The time's passing by, I feel like you (I always do.) You're my place to hide, I don't know why. Still hear your voice, still feel the same-a single kiss can stop the rain. So close to you in everything I do."_

The progression of the story is nowhere near as clean as I'd like it to be. I find that the timeskips (each space-period-space denotes a different time!) a little difficult to follow but I could find no better way to track the story. Beginning with a sense of near-loss, going back to the beginning to understand why they never 'had' in the first place, and then realizing at the end that Itachi had always known it could only end in one way-that they were for each other, regardless of what the rest of the world wanted.

I find it charming.

Anyway, let me know what you think. Feedback is, as always, greatly appreciated.

Note: unbeta'd. I apologize for any errors, obvious or otherwise. I'm slightly out of my mind writing this in forty minutes at 2:40 in the morning.

Regards!  
Elle


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